A Change Of Fortune
by The Inebriated Lion-Minion
Summary: Dumbledore isn't Dumbledore. Swords are the weapon of choice. And there's another evil lunatic trying to take over the world. HPLotR
1. It's a Sword World After All

**A CHANGE OF FORTUNE**

**AUTHORS: **The Inebriated Lion-Minion  
**CATEGORY: **Action/Adventure/Humour  
**WARNINGS: **HP/LotR crossover  
**RATING: **T  
**BETA: **A.C.Mathur, Tigerwulf  
**DISCLAIMER: **Everything belongs to either JKR or Tolkein. Unfortunately, they do not belong to me.

* * *

Considering the large number of swords now surrounding him, Harry decided this might not have been one of his better ideas. 

XxXxXxX

_Flashback:_

"Psst"

"What?" asked an irate Hermione.

"Is that…_Dumbledore_?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Well, how many other ancient white-haired wizards do you know?" asked Hermione sarcastically.

"But why would he be carrying half a tree?" Ron asked her.

"Dunno…" muttered Harry, that look on his face. The one that usually signified he was about to do something stupid and/or dangerous. 

"Harry, we are NOT following him!"

"Aw, come on Hermione, we haven't done anything interesting recently!"

"Ron, 'because he's got half a tree' is NOT a good reason to go gallivanting after Dumbledore!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too…where's Harry?"

The duo turned around in time to see the edge of a black robe vanish out the door.

* * *

"Harry! HARRY!" 

"Oi!"

"What?" he asked irritably, turning around to face them.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hermione asked.

"Going after Dumbledore. What'd you think?"

He strode off, putting on his invisibility cloak as he did. Half-invisible, he stopped and turned around.

"You coming?" He asked them.

"You bet, mate!" Ron answered, joining Harry in disappearing.

"Hermione?"

"Well, someone's got to come along to keep you two out of trouble!" She grinned and slid under the cloak with them, and together, Hogwarts' Golden Trio doggedly pursued their Headmaster.

* * *

"Ow!" 

"Shh!"

"That was my foot!"

"Oops…sorry…"

"SHHH!"

"Sorry…"

Harry wished his friends would shut up. He was trying to watch Dumbledore, who was acting strangely, to say the least.

He was wearing strange grey robes, a grey hat, and was _still _carrying half a tree. Dumbledore then picked up a pinch of something lying by the side of the fireplace, before throwing it into the fire. _Floo Powder._

"Imladris!" He shouted as the flames turned green.

As soon as he was sure the professor had gone, Harry pulled the cloak off the trio.

"Hermione…Where the heck's 'Imladris'?" asked Ron.

"Shall we go after him?" Harry asked.

"Why not?"

"Because we have no idea where on Earth he's gone to?" asked Hermione.

"Other than that?" said Ron.

Harry picked up the discarded invisibility cloak and took the tin of Floo Powder, offering it to his two friends before stuffing it into his robes with the cloak.

"I'll go first…IMLADRIS!"

What followed was worse than a muggle roller coaster. It felt like his insides were being pulled out and shredded. Slowly. After what felt like eternity, he tumbled out the fireplace, Ron and Hermione crashing into him.

To be confronted by a load of men.

And considering the large number of swords now pointed at him, Harry decided this might not have been one of his better ideas.

XxXxXxX

Dumbledore looked up from where he had been greeting Lord Elrond of Rivendell, also called Imladris.

The flurry of movement had attracted the Lord's attention as well, though it would have been hard to miss the sounds that heralded half the occupants of the Hall of Fire moving to surround…something. It must have been a great need indeed to cause them all to draw their weapons; evil was not found afoot in Imladris, so great must have been the need.

"If you would excuse me, I believe that my presence may be required…"

"I will come also." Dumbledore added.

Together, Elrond and Dumbledore followed the sounds of commotion to their root, and found in the centre of circle of warriors, a pile of moving bodies.

"Who enters my domain?" asked Lord Elrond in a singularly fearsome voice. One of the heads in the pile looked up. Raven black hair, green eyes, lightning bolt scar…

"HARRY POTTER!" Dumbledore bellowed, making eye contact with Harry for the first time in several months.

"Mithrandir, you know them?" Asked Lord Elrond.

"Mithrandir, who's Mithrandir?" asked Harry.

"You _don't_ know Mithrandir? _This_ is Mithrandir!"

"You're Bonkers, that's Dumbledore!"

"Ahem," coughed one of Harry's Travelling Companions.

"_Professor _Dumbledore then."

"Pardon?" asked Elrond.

"Gandalf?" asked another man, walking into the room.

"WHAT!? Harry practically shouted.

"Harry, quiet! And to answer your question, yes I do know them…" His professor trailed off into thought.

"So, then, my omniscient friend, you should be able to tell me who they are, where they hail from, and what, precisely, they are doing in _my_ realm! In the middle of a war!"

"First two, without a doubt: the young man with black hair is Harry Potter, the one with red hair is Ronald Weasley, and the girl is Hermione Granger…they, well, you know my situation with the Valar and their 'world-hopping' – they attend my school…and, well…"

"I hope that's not all the answers I will be getting?"

"_HE _might get answers, but we want them too…like when we get taken out of the range of the illegal weapons?" Harry's question merely got a raised eyebrow from Elrond, and no sign of letting up of the swords.

"I think this might be a _long_ story; have you anywhere we may adjourn to?" Dumbledore asked, choosing to ignore the three students behind him.

"This way, then…"

* * *

Dumbledore was just slightly amused at the situation Harry had gotten himself into this time. 

Sitting down in Elrond's office, he began to explain all about the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

"So, you travelled here, not realising that you were being followed, and therefore managed to unwittingly bring this boy and his friends into Arda, where we are in the middle of a war – in which they couldget _killed_, when they are necessary to their world, correct?" 

"Pretty much…"

"I also find out that all three of them are wizards – which, although not completely common, is not rare – and there is enough of them for there to be several big, 'schools' for them, correct?"

"Yes."

"And also that these 'wizards' that you term them, are very powerful and can cast spells with a miniature staff and a single word…And you expect me to put up with them?!"

"Well, unless you can think of a better plan…"

At this present moment in time, Elrond could quite happily strangle Mithrandir.

* * *

Harry looked around him as they waited in a room for Dumbledore and his companion to return from their discussion. It was pretty freaky, though, to fall though the floo, end up on the floor – and in a place clearly _not _in the wizarding world, but rather (according to Hermione) in a completely parallel universe, whatever that may be. For example, who _didn't _know Dumbledore? 

However many different scrapes the three of them had got themselves into, this had to be the first where they had been threatened by swords; wands, yes. Never swords, which made sense, considering (if he remembered his muggle history correctly) that swords had been abandoned a couple of centuries ago – guns just worked better.

Harry glanced around the room that they had been unceremonially left in by the armed guards – who were still standing outside the door. Ron was sitting on the floor, fiddling with something that had been in his robes. Hermione was systematically flicking through every book on the shelf, complaining to herself because it was in a language she could not read; and not even in Roman lettering.

He wondered idly whether Dumbledore would be back soon.

* * *

Having eventually persuaded Elrond it would be in his best interests to leave the three wizards here – length of time not determined – Dumbledore walked with his old friend to inform his students of the changing circumstances. (Otherwise known as "you're staying here until we say so.") 

The Gandalf part of him was informing the rest of him that these three had some part to play yet. The Mithrandir part of him was telling him that he really should refer to himself as either Gandalf or Mithrandir (depending on the company; men and elves respectively.) but out of the wizarding world, he was not Dumbledore.

After all, Dumbledore was only 150 years old, whereas Gandalf/Mithrandir was seven thousand (approximately). Then there was Olórin… but that was Valinor-only.

His musings had left him front of the room where his students were being kept.

"Mithrandir?" The wizard belatedly realised that the Lord of Imladris had been speaking to him.

"Hm?"

"Were you listening?" Well, it was to be expected – after all, if you couldn't tell that someone wasn't listening to you after several thousand years of friendship, something was the matter.

"Indeed, omniscient as always."

"I was asking if you were ready to… question… your students?"

"Oh, right…" Gandalf muttered, entering the room.

"So…" Elrond began, as the three students sat down on the chairs in front of them. "The way is shut. You cannot get back. There is ancient magic, older than your world, which closes the portal until it is needed. Therefore, there is obviously a need for you… children to be here. And I doubt the Valar sent you here as a mere conundrum to be solved by those who are accounted wise. What shall you do?"

"They shall attend the council, Elrond. They must be somehow tied up in the fate of the ring, like so many others who will." Gandalf replied, even though the question wasn't directed at him. Besides, the questioned were unlikely to answer – the confused look on the face said it all.

"Professor, what's this council?"

"The Council of Elrond – the council that will decide the fate of the free peoples of Middle-Earth!" Elrond informed them.

"Pardon?" Harry asked.

"I'll explain – this could take a while, since the entire history of middle earth may have to be explained… I don't suppose you have any copies of _Middle Earth: A History_ in Westron, do you? It would ease a lot of the pain…" Gandalf muttered in Sindarin.

"Erestor would know… I will return shortly…" Elrond departed, leaving the Maia with three very confused and very impatient students.

* * *

Harry sat back in his chair; trying to process the vast amount of information he had been given. Needless to say, he failed. He'd have to ask Hermione for a summary later. 

"So, basically, we're caught up in a war, and we can't get back until we are no longer needed?" Hermione summarized.

"Does that mean we get to miss school?" Ron asked hopefully. Dumbledore laughed.

"No, you will arrive back at exactly the same time as you left Hogwarts…so you needn't worry, your school work will not suffer!"

Harry grinned at his two friends' reaction to being told this – completely contradictory, yet equally amusing….

The three of them looked up as a whole as Lord Elrond entered, carrying the largest book Harry had ever seen – and that was after being friends with Hermione for the last four and a half years. (give or take a few months)

"Ah, so you had it?" Dumbledore asked him.

"Indeed… But I must leave you, I need to persuade my son to have a wash…" Dumbledore laughed as Elrond left.

"Poor Aragorn, he will be most upset at the prospect of two showers in one day… Nevertheless, I must leave you here as well, I need to check up on the Hobbits – they will need feeding. Oh, this is for you," He finished, handing the huge book to Hermione, who promptly sat down and started to read.

* * *

A/N: 

Thank you for reading my story – I hope you enjoyed it. Now, make my day by telling me what you thought of it. I really don't mind.

Thanks, The Inebriated Lion Minion


	2. I Council Better Than I Cook

**A CHANGE OF FORTUNE  
  
AUTHORS: **The Inebriated Lion-Minion  
**CATEGORY: **Action/Adventure/Humour  
**WARNINGS: **HP/LotR crossover  
**RATING: **T  
**BETA: **A.C.Mathur, Tigerwulf  
**DISCLAIMER: **Everything belongs to either JKR or Tolkein. Unfortunately, they do not belong to me.

* * *

Several hours later, Harry and Ron were more than slightly bored. They had played exploding snap for the better part of the time they had been stuck in the room – Hermione was reading; only a fraction of the way through the huge book she had been given – but even Exploding Snap grew tedious after a few hours. And the boys were hungry. 

"Isn't it dinner time yet? I swear it must be after nine!" Ron complained, for the third time in as many minutes.

"It is three hours past sunset, should you wish to know." The three students looked up at the man who entered the room. He was tall, and dark, with deep grey eyes. He was tidy, with his beard neatly trimmed, dark hair combed, and wearing black. "I am Aragon, son of Arathorn. I have been sent by Gandalf to bring you to the feast." At this announcement, loud cheering echoed around the room – even Hermione was smiling as she stood up to follow their guide.

He led them through what seemed to be an endless maze; twists and turns everywhere, with only the décor on the walls to tell one passage from the next. Yet the man in front of them led them without hesitation. Harry was strongly reminded of his first days in Hogwarts – but without moving stairs, vanishing doors, and Peeves. Which could only be a good thing.

Harry could hear Hermione trying to memorise the place on one side of him, and Ron's stomach grumbling on his other. But the journey was relatively short and painless, and they soon found themselves outside a large hall, with one long table on a dais; but there was also tables surrounding it, and it was to one of these that they were led. They sat down on one of the sides, near the bottom of it. On one side of them, towards the top of the table, were three children, and on the other side, a person who could hardly be described as a man, mostly due to the pointed ears, waist length brown hair, and slight glow.

"Hermione…since when do people look like that?" Harry asked, indicating the person next to her.

"Why are you asking me?"

"You're the one who was reading that huge book Dumbledore gave you…" Ron answered helpfully.

"I only read the first chapter, about the people called the Valar… and no, he is not one of them. Excuse me, sir?" she asked the person next to her.

"Yes?"

"We, um, came with the grey wizard by accident, and are slightly uninformed as to the people surrounding us…we were wondering if you might tell us about, well, everyone? Please?" Hermione asked.

"Ah, so you are those delightful Istari Mithrandir was telling everyone about!"

"Istari?" Ron asked, confused.

"Wizards, in the common tongue – though you will lucky to find many hereabouts that speak it…"

"Oh."

"But, sir, what are you – with all due respect, you don't look like the people from where we come from." Hermione asked. The person laughed

"That, would be because I am not. I, along with most of the guests here, am an Elf." At the announcement, Ron snorted into his drink. Harry thought he had a point – This 'elf' was most unlike the elves that served the wizarding world. Which led to a disturbing thought; was Hermione still obsessed with spew, because if this _was_ a real elf, she would undoubtedly campaign for them to have the same rights.

"I am Calanon Sarlithion, at your service," the Elf told them.

"Oh…well, I'm Harry Potter, this is Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger."

"Could you tell us more about the different people, please?" Hermione interrupted, eager for more information. The boys rolled their eyes, but the elf, Calanon, didn't seem to mind.

"The people on your left are the periannath - or Hobbits, as you would know them… a very strange people, but with history. You would be best asking them for information about themselves – even Mithrandir, who has studied them for the better part of his life on Ennor, cannot fully understand them."

"Oh…" Harry paused, considering the new information "They're not children then?" He asked, slightly bemused.

"No, a far cry. But as I have said, their customs are most easily detailed by them. You would do better to ask them about themselves."

"What about the two on the dais, are they Hobbits?" Hermione asked.

"The one on the left is – he is Frodo Baggins – but the other is one of the Naugrim, or a Dwarf. There are men here as well - but I am unfamiliar as to where they hail from."

Harry and Ron looked on in slight amusement - and large amounts of confusement – as the conversation mutated into an endless list of people, places and languages. Hopefully this would mean Hermione would have a better understanding of this Parallel Universe - something they themselves had no hope of ever aquiring.

But, not wanting to listen to a conversation they couldn't understand, Harry and Ron decided that the incoming food was sufficient to serve as the reason for their lack of attention.

* * *

Ron was shocked. There was no other way of putting it. 

The three Hobbits, easily half his size, were eating more than he was. Him, a growing sixteen-year-old teenager.

For some reason, Harry and Hermione seemed to find it rather funny.

* * *

At length the feast came to an end. Two of the elves on the dais, one male, one female – though, according to Hermione, they looked more like father and daughter than anything else – stood and walked (though Ron maintained it looked more like floating) down the hall, to the doors at the bottom. Some sort of logical order had obviously been concocted for the guests to leave in, as those on the dais followed them in some sort of procession. 

They remained seated for a while, since theirs was one of the last tables to leave, before following Calanon out of the Hall. The company went across a wide passage, through another set of doors, arriving at another large hall. There were no tables, but a huge fire was burning in the fireplace. It was the only source of light in the room.

Calanon excused himself at this point, but not before guiding them to some seats towards the edge of the room, and telling them Gandalf would be along shortly.

Music had started at this point – a sweet, yet haunting tune, and strangely entrancing – and Harry found himself lost to all time as the song progressed. He couldn't understand it; but at the same time, he was comforted by it. He would later compare it to the Imperious Curse – but it was completely voluntary. Just the feeling of complete and utter bliss, as though he had not a care in the world.

His blissful reverie was interrupted by Professor Dumbledore's voice.

"How did you find the feast?"

"wha…oh, right, feast. It was…different…" Harry told him haltingly

"Indeed, dining with the Elves can be as such. I understand you were seated with the Hobbits?"

"Sir, how can people _easily _half the size of me eat twice as much?!" Ron complained indignantly

"One of the many mysteries of the periannath. But that is not why I have come here – my other charge, the Hobbit Frodo, is occupied elsewhere, and I now have time to show you to where you will be staying, among other things. Come, this merrymaking is not a requirement to listen to, and I would speak to you, ere you fall to sleep. Come." Slightly bemused at Dumbledore's odd speech, they followed him past the singers, the listeners and the musicians, and out a door – the same as the one they came in by; except it couldn't be, by the simple fact that they hadn't walked past all the music to get to their seats.

Harry had a feeling this would be a very confusing place to get around – everything looked the same. He was strongly reminded of his allusion to Hogwarts as they were led through endless twists and turns. Eventually, however, they arrived back at the room that they had been kept in all day.

"Collect your belongings, we shall not return. Miss Granger, you may take the book with you. You will find it rather useful in the foreseeable future." Dumbledore told them, pausing before taking them in another maze of passages and turns, with three very confused Gryffindors trailing behind him.

He led them to a corridor, with doors, much like the vague image of a hotel that Harry could remember, after his uncle decided to have a brief stay in one before his first year at Hogwarts.

"Here are your rooms for your stay in Rivendell," He told them, indicating three of them. "Your breakfast will be brought here an hour after dawn, for you shall be required for council at nine o'clock…"

"Council?" Harry asked. Nothing had been mentioned of a _council_!

"The Council of Elrond. A council to decide the fate of the free people of Middle Earth. Since you were called here, the Valar must have some purpose for you. What that is, I do not yet know. Everything you need should be in your rooms. But I must take my leave, for it is late. Goodnight, I shall send someone to get you tomorrow."

"What's happened to him…I know he's usually mysterious, but this…" Harry muttered as they watched Dumbledore leave

"Split personality disorder?" Hermione suggested "But more likely something to do with the whole 'parallel world' scenario…"

"Right…" Ron muttered, as they entered their rooms for the night

* * *

Harry woke up early that morning, watching as the pale sun rose over the hills through his window. With the sun, yesterday's memories came flooding back. With nothing else to do, he washed and dressed in the solitude of his room, trying to make sense of aforementioned memories – swords, people with pointy ears, the what-d'you-call-'em people, the mysteriously mysterious Dumbledore with several names… It was all as confusing as when he first arrived at Hogwarts…he seemed to be using that analogy a lot. 

A knock on the door shook him from his musings – hopefully his breakfast had arrived; he was hungry, even though it looked too early to be awake, he was ravenous. Pity the one time he really needed a watch, he'd left it on his bedside table in his dorm…

Indeed, it was his breakfast. Harry was too hungry to pay much attention to the bearer, other than a quick thank you, before tucking in to his breakfast – sausages, some form of thick bacon, mushrooms and bread. It was good, though he preferred Hogwarts breakfasts, if only for the normalacy of it. But he enjoyed it all the same – it was food, and he was hungry.

After breakfast, boredom came on quickly. It was some minutes before he decided to stop pacing a hole in the floor and find his friends. He thought Ron was in the room on the right of his. He probably would have fallen back to sleep after eating – food came first, then sleep.

The corridor outside his room was packed. It seemed that a good many people were staying here; from the bits of conversation he had understood yesterday, this council was going to be well attended. Pushing his way through the crowd that seemed to be going the opposite way to him, he managed to walk the few meters to Ron's door. He knocked before opening the door, hoping the sound that had emitted from the room was actually one of consent – it was hard to tell.

"Why do we have to get up so bloody early?" Ron moaned, putting on his robe. "It was still dark when they woke me up!"

Harry laughed, eyes flicking to the door as someone knocked on it

"Yeah?" Ron called. Harry hoped it was Hermione, since she was used to Ron's morning habits – It was hardly discernable as a word. No one else had a hope of understanding it

"Can I come in?" Thankfully, it was their personal encyclopaedia.

"Mphf"

"Lovely thing, aren't you? Morning Harry. You weren't in your room, so I came here…"

"It's too early to be cheerful, 'mione…" Ron muttered, glaring at the door as someone else knocked, simultaneously with single loud bell.

"Yes?" Harry called, saving their visitor from Ron's anti-morning speaking.

"I am here to take you to the council; I was sent by Gandalf," someone called from behind a door.

"Just a minute!" Hermione called, pushing Ron's head into the bowl of water, before dragging both boys through the door (since they were both incapable of moving, Ron through shock, Harry because he was doubled over laughing at Ron's predicament), practically crashing into their guide from yesterday, who merely raised his eyebrows at them. Hermione shrugged, then smacked both boys over their heads. Harry just laughed harder, clutching his head.

Their guide shrugged again, then led the way through more of the winding passages. It was a fairly long walk, and at no leisurely speed either. He seemed to be under an ulterior motive that involved getting to the council ASAP; whereas Harry had no real burning desire to actually go. This council promised to be long, busy and noisy. Not good.

Dumbledore was waiting in front of a pair of double doors.

"Ah, Aragorn, thank you. I shall take them from here, should you wish to continue on." Their guide left them, entering through the open door

"I should not need to tell you the importance of protocol here, for in this room shall be some of the most important and influential people in Middle-Earth, for this is the council which will, for good or otherwise, determine the fate of Arda," Gandalf began, addressing the three students

"Arda?" Harry asked

"Middle-Earth. Follow me." He led them into the room – a large space, outside on a balcony like thing. A semicircle of chairs were already placed out, some occupied, surrounding a small pedestal and a chair not unlike the one the headmaster sat on in the Great Hall. The present headmaster indicated three chairs that were on his left. Harry took the centre one, with Ron on his right, Hermione on his left.

On the right of Gandalf was one of those kid-like people, but it didn't appear to be one of the ones they had been sitting with at the feast. He looked older, and slightly pale.

On Hermione's left was some of those elf people – the pointy ears told everything. Further round were people of a similar height to the Hobbits, but were too well-built to be them.

"Hermione. Who are they?" He asked the resident human know-it-all.

"Who, the dwarves? The small guys covered in metal? They're Dwarves."

"Which clears up everything, I'm sure. How do you know all this?" Ron asked

"That elf guy, Calanon, he was telling me about the different races. And also that book Dumbledore gave me, that was pretty useful…"

"So, since you know everything, who the people opposite us?" Ron replied

"Men, since they're the only race not accounted for – Men, elves, dwarves, hobbits…"

"Lovely."

Harry grinned at his friends' antics, as they quietened down for the start of the council. The fact that someone had entered, and the only seat left was the one at the front, seemed to be a bit influential. Alternatively, it could just be that everyone else had shut up. Thinking on it though, he seemed pretty similar to the guy who'd been at the front of the hall last night.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer to the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate – this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo."

"Well, that was optimistic…" Harry muttered, as Frodo (the hobbit on their right) stood, and placed the ring on the small table in front of the influential elf lord. For some reason, everyone apart from them seemed to find this a matter great importance. He couldn't say why; it was a simple ring, gold, but with no mark or scratch – it was utterly plain.

"So it is true…" muttered one of the Men on the far side of the room.

"The Doom of Men…" said another. The first man, dressed in a red robe-like garment and black leather robes, shook his head.

"It is a gift!" Rang out a jubilant voice. "A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this ring?" The entire council watched as the man got up, agitated, and started pacing. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

For some reason, their guide person seemed to take offence at this "You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master!"

"Hermione…who's Sauron?" Harry muttered to her, conscious of the argument going on opposite them, now involving one of those elf people (the pointy ears gave it away)

"I'm not sure…" Hermione replied, concentrating on the debate in front of her.

Harry didn't laugh, but Ron's expression at this was priceless – he had never considered the fact that Hermione didn't know everything…yet. Harry turned his attention back to the scene in front of him as it turned into a full-blow argument. Everyone was on their feet, save the hobbit person who was to his right. He seemed to be having difficulty breathing.

Harry nearly had a hearty attack himself when he looked over to the stool where the ring, upon which everyone seemed to put so much value, suddenly burst into flame. This seemed to decide something for the hobbit, who stood up to join the crowd on the floor – not that anybody noticed him, everyone else was too busy arguing, or in Gandalf's case, being referee.

"I will take it! I will take it!" At this pronouncement, everyone turned around to face the Hobbit, looks of astonishment on most of their faces. "I will take the ring to Mordor! Though…I do not know the way…"

Harry though it rather interesting that Dumbledore looked resigned, before joining the hobbit. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, so long as it is yours to bear."

As though it was rehearsed, their guide person rose and walked over to Dumbledore and the Hobbit, kneeling before the latter. "If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. You have my Sword."

"And you have my Bow." An elf rose to join those already by the hobbit

"And my Axe." A dwarf followed, glaring at the elf as he did so.

To the surprise of many, the next to volunteer was the man who had raised caused such a fuss in the first place. "You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done." His face was inscrutable as he said this, but he was forgotten as one of the hobbits that had sat with them at the feast appeared from behind a bush. The person in charge seemed slightly taken aback – which was surprising, considering he had endured the rest of the council without batting an eyelid.

"Heh! Mr Frodo's not going anywhere without me!"

"No, indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not." Elrond told him, amused. He was less amused, however, when the Council was invaded by the other two hobbits, who had been hiding behind the doorway

"Oi! We're coming too! You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!"

"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission…quest…thing."

"Well, that rules you out, Pip."

There was something about the way Dumbledore was looking at Harry… "Can we come?"

"Harry!" Hermione screeched

"We've nothing better to do, Hermione, and we can't get back…" Ron reasoned, fairly logically "Besides, we're only taking a ring up a mountain!"

"You are aware that this 'Mountain' of yours is in the middle of the Dark Lord's Stronghold?" The Person-In-Charge asked them, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, good practice…what was his name again?" Harry asked, the number of name he'd 'learnt' over the past 24 hours getting to his head.

"My Lord, you cannot seriously be considering sending three children who do not know the Dark Lord's _name _on this quest!?" Asked the man who had a slight obsession with creating a fuss, looking at the Person-In-Charge in astonishment. Harry merely glared at the man for calling him a child. On either side of him, he could feel Ron and Hermione doing the same.

"Mithrandir, what is your opinion?"

"I believe that it could be…beneficial…to have them with us on this quest…" Dumbledore answered

"So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"

"Great!" said one of the Hobbits "Where are we going?"

* * *

**A/N:**

Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, and thanks to those who read it anyway. Thanks also need to be given to my Master, who plans to take over the world, and her Staff. (I'm her Personal Assassin).

I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations - please review and tell me what you thought.

The Inebriated Lion-Minion


	3. Oh We're Off To Kill The Wizard

**A CHANGE OF FORTUNE  
  
AUTHORS: **The Inebriated Lion-Minion  
**CATEGORY: **Action/Adventure/Humour  
**WARNINGS: **HP/LotR crossover  
**RATING: **T  
**BETA: **A.C.Mathur, Tigerwulf  
**DISCLAIMER: **Everything belongs to either JKR or Tolkein. Unfortunately, they do not belong to me.

* * *

As the council of Elrond came to an end, and the participants filed out, Harry and Ron decided it would be a good idea to interrogate Dumbledore…and Hermione decided it would be a good idea to lecture Harry.

"Harry, what were you THINKING!? _You_ have just volunteered _us_ to go on a quest to the _middle of the Dark Lord's stronghold!_ You IDIOT!" Hermione lectured. While Harry got told off, Ron decided to take the opportunity to interrogate Dumbledore.

"Sir, where are we going to?"

"When, now? Somewhere to talk. The quest? Mordor."

"Where's Mordor, sir?"

"Southwest. I wouldn't worry about it yet, you have a quite a long time before we can begin; Elrond has sent out riders to search out the Úlairi." By this time, Hermione abandoned her tirade in favour of more information.

"The Úlairi?" She asked, as Ron and Harry got lost in unfamiliar territory.

"The Black Riders. Like Dementors, but sans the appetite for souls. The Nazgûl are more interested in killing you out right. They are servants of the enemy, his most faithful. Frodo – the hobbit at the council – was stabbed by one whilst travelling here."

"_Nazgûl? _How many names do these people have for things?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Oh, many. Úlairi is Quenya, Nazgûl is in the tongue of Mordor, and Westron uses the term Black Rider. While we are on the subject of names, I am Gandalf. Dumbledore – I suppose you can call it an alias, for use in the wizarding world. I wish you to use Gandalf, please. There will be enough confusion with names later on without you adding to it…Ah, here is the suite that has been assigned for your use until we leave. There are two bedrooms, and a small space where you can spend time. Someone, most likely Aragorn or myself, will come along later. I shall leave you now, as no doubt you have much to discuss. By the way, I had someone bring that book down for you. No doubt you will find it useful…" Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore left them stranded outside a door.

"Well, that was informative," Ron muttered, shaking his head.

"Indeed." Hermione replied, pushing open the door to their new quarters. Ron blinked at her back, clueless as to why she would have found that an informative conversation. But, for once, Harry had to agree with Hermione.

Entering the room, Harry looked around in amazement. The room he had spent last night in was nothing compared to this, and that had hardly been lacking. The huge windows that covered the entire back wall filled the room with light, giving everything a golden glow. There was huge opening glass doors leading on to a balcony bathed in sunlight. The furniture was all made of wood, no sign of plastic anywhere. The seats were covered in real leather and the curtains made of cloth that floated on the air. Everything appeared to be to handmade – no sign of a machine or synthetic material anywhere. And the room was nicer for it.

Going into the adjoining rooms, everything had the same attention to detail, from the intricately decorated covers on the beds in the bedrooms, to the soft linen towels in the bathroom – which was slightly primitive to be sure, but did not want for anything in either cleanliness or hygiene. And all without manmade materials. There were two bedrooms, one on the right, with a small washroom – which would be Hermione's – and another on the left, with an adjoining door to the main bathroom, which would be for the boys. There was a small, half-size wall separating an area that was a kitchen-come-dining-room, leaving the rest of the huge main room as living space.

"Wow." Ron breathed, lost for words.

"It's like walking into a fairy tale." Hermione murmured as they came to the end of their impromptu tour. Not one to be away from books for long, though, she hefted the history books she had been given, and began to read. Drawing away for her, Harry and Ron began to talk about much more practical things – food.

"It must be way past lunchtime!" Ron complained. "After all, it was nine when we went to that strange Council thing, and since then we've had a long discussion with Dumbledore…"

"Gandalf" Hermione corrected absentmindedly

"Gandalf, whatever. Then we thoroughly explored this place, and now I'm hungry." Ron finished.

"Perhaps someone will come and bring us some, that's what they did this morning. Or maybe they left some here for us, or we have to go and find something. We could go and look, if you're that hungry?" Harry asked Ron

"Yeah, I'm gonna starve otherwise. Hermione, d'you want some food, if we find any?"

"Please, and if you can, will you also get us some snacks or something for up here, and some drinks?" She asked, not lifting her eyes from the page.

Shaking his head, Harry led the way out of the room.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they still hadn't found a source of food, and on top of that, they were lost.

"Lovely 'adventure' this is turning out to be, isn't it. We're not in any danger yet, and our greatest troubles lie in finding food…"

"…Something I'm sure we'd find straight away, if we just asked one of these millions of people wandering around, many just as aimlessly as we are…" Harry told him

"But we don't _know _any of these people! We might as well just find Dumbledore, or whatever we're calling him." Ron told him, choosing a corridor at random

"We could spend all afternoon trying to find him!" Harry replied, chasing after him. To someone unused to walking these corridors, they were rather hard to navigate. Rather like Hogwarts. Harry was just following Ron – though that statue looked strangely familiar… "We've been here before! I definitely remember that statue!"

"It could just be similar to another one!" Ron replied, looking down each passage.

"Each piece of art in Imladris is unique, you know." Both boys spun round simultaneously, startled by the voice behind them. The only thing that prevented them from drawing their wands was the knowledge that the people around here seemed to like using much simpler short-range weapons…

"Easy there." The elf that was standing behind them told them.

"Do I know you?" Harry asked, suspiciously peering at the Elf, who laughed, though not in an unfriendly way.

"Indeed you do, although it was your friend who spent most of the time talking to me." Seeing their confusion, he continued "I am Calanon. The Elf you sat next to at the feast last night?"

"Oh, I remember!" Ron exclaimed, light bulb flashing.

"Ron, shut up."

"You seemed lost, especially since you have walked past this same spot approximately eight times, from various directions. I thought I would offer my help."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Ron shouted, doing a weird dance in the middle of the hallway. He didn't seem to notice the odd looks he was receiving from various visitors and residents alike.

"Okay. We were looking for lunch, and got lost…" Harry told him

"And we're hungry," Ron added. Calanon laughed

"So you are after the kitchens! You are on the wrong side of Imladris!" He led them through the network of twisting and turning passages, leading them further and further into the heart of the elven settlement. He even got the food for them, putting it in a basket so they could take it up to their suite easier. He even got them some extra food and drink to take up, and put it into another basket for them. He then led them back up to the suite, so they wouldn't spend another hour wandering around aimlessly.

"That took you a while, didn't it?" Hermione asked as they entered. Harry muttered something under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"I _said _we got lost…and got rescued by that Elf guy from the feast…"

"Oh, Calanon? So did you get the food then?"

"Yes, actually, we're not _totally_ useless. We got lunch – some sort of bread with cheese, fruit and some form of ham – and some fruit, biscuit like things called _cram_, I think, and a few other things that won't go off…"

"And you got all this? I'm impressed, it seems beyond your mental capacities."

"Well, Calanon decided it would be safer if he got it, since most the kitchen staff only speak Elvish…" Hermione merely rolled her eyes, before returning to her book.

Harry and Ron returned to the food.

* * *

"Now what do we do?" Ron asked, after all the food had gone.

"Um…" Thankfully for him, Harry was saved by answering by the return of Dumbledore. Hermione put down the book.

"Good afternoon. If you would follow me, please, we have an appointment with the tailor…" He led them from the room into the corridors, for another long walk around Imladris. They were certainly seeing a lot of the place, even if they weren't learning it – though Hermione seemed to be trying pretty hard.

"Here we are. Now, since you didn't bring any clothes with you, and we can hardly go back and get some for you, since the connection closed up, we shall have to get you some. We will get all you need at once, so we need not bother the tailor again." They entered the Tailor's, which was an endless supply of colour, with heaps of different materials, each feeling different, but again, like their suite, there was no synthetic materials – there was cotton, some more cotton, some thing similar to velvet, a form of satin, wool, leather, and many materials that Harry couldn't describe, or find the words to.

"Mae Govannen, Eranir. I have some people I need you to measure, please. Come forward, please." As three different elves came forward to measure each of Harry Ron and Hermione, Dumbledore and the tailor talked about what the students needed.

"So, Gandalf, what do these Edain need?" Eranir asked.

"Well, there was an inconvenient situation with the Valar, and in short, they really need attire to last them until the departure of the Company, so they need some sort of everyday wear and some evening wear first, preferably quickly, and then they need travelling attire, but that's not necessary yet…"

"So, in short, an entire wardrobe?" The tailor asked, laughing.

"Indeed." The tailor merely shook his head, before heading over to the piles of material and passing sample of them to the three people who had now finished measuring the Golden Trio. These Elves then held the fabric against them, calling out in their strange, yet beautiful language, back to the tailor, who wrote a note on the board in the corner of the room.

This went on for half an hour, with the material scattered all over the floor. Soon, every piece of cloth in the room had been exhausted.

"Hennad, Eranir. When do you need us to return?"

"We shall have the basics ready approximately an hour before sunset, I believe, if that suits you?"

"It does indeed. Come along, you three. We have to go to the cobbler's." For some reason, Dumbledore seemed to be in a great hurry today, leading them at such a pace that Harry, Ron and Hermione were running to keep up with him

"Hermione, what's a – what's the place we're going to?" Ron asked

"A Cobbler's? A shoe shop – a person who makes shoes." Hermione answered, out of breath.

"Why are we going to get shoes, Pro- Gandalf?" Harry asked, aware that Dumbledore smiled widely when he got the name right.

"You cannot go trampling through the wilderness in naught but your school shoes. In truth, you can hardly walk around Imladris in just your shoes – they will look most unbecoming with the outfits Eranir makes. If you wear Elvish-style clothes, you have to wear the rest of the attire. Shoes we will get next." Dumbledore told them, leading them through a doorway.

Again, the material scattered around the room at the cobbler's was varied and natural. There was leather, suede, something that felt fairly waterproof, and even fur. Here, their feet were measured, for Gandalf wanted them to have some daily footwear, eveningwear, and travelling shoes, and some sandals, for one reason or another. It took them another half an hour in the shoemakers; by this time, Ron was bored, and letting the world know.

"Are we done yet? I _hate _shopping!" Ron moaned. Harry, however, was undecided on the topic, having never had cause to go shopping before. The Dursleys had only took him food shopping, and that only so he could push the trolley for them.

"Indeed, I believe we are; well, at least for a while, until I am needed back at the tailor's – your clothes will be brought to you on the morrow…But I think we can go back to your rooms for now – there is a lot you need to know, about the Quest, Middle Earth, and the peoples in it. And most importantly, your companions in the Company. This will undoubtedly be a very long and dangerous journey, and there is already enough tension in the company without you adding to it." Dumbledore told them, sitting down on one of the chairs in their room. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down on the sofa opposite him.

"Now, who was listening at the Council?" He asked, looking at them.

"I was – these two weren't." Hermione told him

"Right, that may complicate things. You do realise what you have volunteered for?"

"We're taking a ring up a mountain." Ron supplied, in all seriousness.

"This is going to complicate things." Dumbledore shook his head in exasperation. "You do realise this 'ring' is completely evil, and wants to get back to its master?"

"It does?" Ron asked

"So this ring, from what I gathered earlier, this seriously evil ring can only be controlled by its master, Sauron, That cannot be destroyed, save from chucking it in a rather hot volcano in the middle of Mordor, the dark lord's stronghold – which is apparently impenetrable wasteland, right?" Hermione told them

"Indeed. That is the quest upon which you have laid your allegiance." Dumbledore informed them

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Ron complained

"You didn't ask" Hermione replied, smirking at him

"Please, try not to argue, we are going to have enough problems as it is! We have the rightful king of Gondor coming, and the heir to the steward of Gondor as well – which could be a slight problem, since both Boromir (the son of the Steward) and his father have become convinced that they are the rightful rulers of Gondor, rather than just caretakers of the throne. However, Aragorn, (who I asked to come and guide you around this place, it can be rather unnerving to strangers) plans to retake the throne, after he has re-united the entire of Middle Earth and defeated Sauron. So that is going to become a slight problem.

"We also have an Elf and a Dwarf on the quest, between whom runs a hatred so deep that they will have killed each other by the end of the quest – because it was not just any elves and dwarves that volunteered, oh no, it had to be Thranduil's son, and Gloin's son, who will both have been indoctrinated by their respective fathers about the other.

"And while they are busy arguing and bickering among themselves, the hobbits will be killed by some servant of the enemy!" Dumbledore finished, quite emotional by this point.

"Oh." Harry said, looking at his friends for help. They just shrugged.

"Indeed. This Quest is doomed from its very beginnings. You see, whilst Elrond's wonderful idea of having someone from each of the free peoples of Middle Earth was a marvellous one, and in a perfect world it would work, Elves and Dwarves just don't mix. Although it would be a fine thing if they did, and indeed, if ours don't kill each other, it could prove to have very interesting results."

"But why don't they mix?"

"Oh, no-one rightly knows, though each blames the other, of course, which is by their very nature what they would do, being a prideful pair of races. But you saw at the council the result of Elves and Dwarves being in the same room for to long. You also saw the result of Boromir and Aragorn being in the same room for too long. Neither results were particularly nice."

"And how long is this going to take?" Ron asked, cringing

"A couple of months at least. And that's not counting the time we have to wait here for the scouts to return. We need to know the location of the Black Riders, and our course needs to be decided on. But while we are all worrying about the enemies within the Fellowship, there are other enemies too. Orcs. Wargs. Evil Men. The Ring. During your time here, you shall be taught the basics of close combat – swords, knives, whatever suits. You _have_ to remember that Sauron's armies are not going to stand at a respectable distance so you can aim at them. A wand, whilst useful on this quest, will not save you. I shall also attempt to teach you Occulmency."

"Occulmency, Sir?" Hermione asked, always grateful for more information

"The ring will attempt to get at you, break into your mind, and so I am hopefully going to show you a way to try prevent it. But not now. There are other things of more importance I must do. However, if one of you feels any inclination to go and take the ring, you must tell me instantly. The survival of Middle Earth could depend on you."

* * *

**AN: **Sorry about the slight delay - I got swamped with English coursework. However, holidays are here, so I _may _have another chapter up soon.

Please tell me what you think, and thanks to those who reviewed last time. Merry Christmas!


	4. Home is Where the Elves Are

A CHANGE OF FORTUNE 

**AUTHORS: **The Inebriated Lion-Minion

**CATEGORY: **Action/Adventure/Humour

**WARNINGS: **HP/LotR crossover

**RATING: **T

**BETA: **A.C.Mathur, Tigerwulf

That evening passed much like the one before it – a feast much like the ones they had on a normal day at Hogwarts', nothing special, rather like a buffet really; followed by music in the hall filled with fires, until they were rescued from the hypnotic songs and taken back to their rooms. Their morning followed a similar routine too, being woken up by the sun rising early, and breakfast arriving soon afterwards.

There was no council, however, so they were free to spend as much time as they wished getting ready. The only instruction they had been given was "be ready two hours before lunch". Since lunch came at one – after Dumbledore had learnt of their disastrous hunt yesterday, he had kindly explained to them that lunch would be delivered to their rooms – they had to be ready by eleven, leaving them a fair bit of time to 'relax', if such a thing was possible in such a strange place. The only problem remaining was that they did not possess a watch, and the room seemed to have every commodity save time, they had no idea when elven o'clock was.

Hermione was trying to create a sun dial, involving a twig they'd found outside, and five pebbles. According to her, all you had to do was stick the twig in the ground outside, then place a stone where the end of the shadow was, and repeat 10 minutes later, until a line of five pebbles was formed. Apparently, this was the North-South line, but what use that had, Harry had no idea, since he'd switched off in the middle of the explanation.

Ron was still asleep, and Harry had contemplated emptying the bucket of water in the bathroom onto his head, until Hermione had pointed out it was the only water they had for washing in – they could hardly use the drinking water for that. He wouldn't be too happy, though, when he found out he had missed breakfast.

* * *

"RON! Wake up! You're not gonna have time to have breakfast!" Harry attempted to shake his best friend awake. The mention of food though, seemed to break through his supposedly impenetrable sleep barrier.

"Hm?" One eye opened blearily, as Ron turn to face the source of his untimely wakening.

"You do realise that if you don't get up soon, there's gonna be no food left for you. Also, Dumbledore is coming in, oh, half-hour, according to Hermione's makeshift clock – but that could mean anything." Harry told him, stepping back as Ron rushed into the bathroom.

But seriously, they needed to get some proper nightwear – they could hardly run around in their underwear with a _girl _present…

* * *

"Can't you eat more slowly?" Hermione admonished Ron, slightly disgusted. The person in question merely shook his head, shovelling more food in. "Boys…"

"Whatever Dumbledore got us from that clothes shop yesterday, it's arrived!" Harry shouted from the doorway, thanking the Elf who had brought them.

He returned into the main part of the room carrying a huge basket that was overflowing in colourful material. It was quickly tipped onto the floor, and Hermione started sifting through it, separating the clothes into two piles - one for her, one for the boys to sort through at will. Ron looked at the larger pile at his feet.

"_What _do they want us to wear?!" he asked in disgust, holding up an item clearly designed for males, but was hardly regarded as such. It looked like a long T-shirt, knee length, but more formal. "I hope this isn't all they want us to wear!"

A knock on the door interrupted them as Dumbledore entered the room. Taking in Harry and Ron's looks of utter confusion, he laughed. "I see you are having some difficulty with the styles of clothing?" he asked, laughter in his eyes. Hermione shook her head in exasperation, opting to sort her clothes out in her room – being female had its distinct advantages, namely the ability to dress one's self.

Harry and Ron, however, were not female, and therefore needed Dumbledore to do it for them.

* * *

Harry looked down at his attire in amazement; this place's tailors had really outdone themselves. What he had first envisioned as an irritating impracticality had actually turn out rather well – he looked neat, smart even, but not overly so. He was fancy enough to fit in with the glamour of Rivendell, but not as so it would encumber him. In the wizarding world, he would have looked like an idiot, but here he fit in with the surroundings.

Dumbledore looked at the three of them critically. "Now that you look the part, you shall be taught what you need to be part of the fellowship – namely survival skills and combat skills, though no doubt you'll learn a few other things along the way, usefulness not determined." Ron groaned, resigned to the fact that they were not going to have an easy time here. Hermione, on the other hand, was delighted.

Harry himself was hesitantly curious – after all, with an attempt on his life every year so far at Hogwarts, it would no doubt come in handy to have a few extra tricks up his sleeve. He did seem to have a habit of finding trouble – or Trouble seemed to have a penchant for finding him…

These thoughts occupied him as Dumbledore led them into the Maze of Corridors. Hermione was once again trying to memorise the way to everywhere. Once again she was failing. Ron was sulking at the thought of _lessons. _He thought he'd escaped their evilness. Harry just hoped they didn't get homework…

* * *

The room they were going to have their lessons in was large, with a certain lack of breakables. It had a thick, carpet-like floor that would act like mats. Dumbledore told them they were going to be taught by Aragorn, who was the next King of Gondor. However, they shouldn't treat him as such because of a lot of rather complicated reasons that Harry and Ron switched off in, but (thankfully) Hermione listened to. Some things never changed…

As 'Professor Aragorn' entered, his 'students' stood up, mainly out of habit. He looked at Dumbledore, who just shrugged, trying to conceal a smile. They sat down at Dumbledore's gesture, and waited patiently for their lesson to begin.

"I know not what powers caused you to be here, nor what caused you to come on this quest, though we could certainly use you as Istari on this quest, especially now that Saruman has betrayed us. I understand that you differ from the Wizards of Middle Earth, however, which could be either a pro or a con.

"But as you no doubt already know, magic will not save you. This is what I am here for – we, that is Gandalf and I, among others, will be teaching you the basics of swordsmanship. Since you have never had need to use a weapon before, we shall start with something a little less…dangerous." He passed each of them a wooden baton, about two feet in length, with a piece of leather-like material wrapped around one end.

"Here," Aragon pointed to the leather, "is the grip. You hold it here. You do not touch the rest of the 'sword', based on the fact that normally, it would be sharp. You shall treat these like swords at all times. They are not for playing with."

They watched as Dumbledore helped Aragorn demonstrate their first exercise. It seemed simple: you try to hit your opponent, your opponent blocks your hit. Then your opponent tries to hit you, and so on. Yes, very simple.

"You two, come here," Aragorn beckoned to the two boys from the front of the classroom. "You can go first. Try to refrain from hitting too hard; these will hurt. However it would be best if you didn't get hit…"

They soon discovered that their supposedly 'simple' task was anything but. The only thing they had to think about at first was trying to hit the other, or trying to avoid getting hit. Then Aragorn started shouting about other things – hands, feet, aim, stance, posture, concentration levels. It was incredibly difficult, trying to concentrate on so many things at once.

Since there was three of them, they kept swapping around, so that one of them could have a well-earned reprise. Still, within the hour, they were past exhausted. Then they were told that they would have to come back tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And so on…

Back in their rooms, Harry, Ron and Hermione were quite happy to collapse on their beds – despite the fact it was lunchtime.

* * *

"Gandalf, you do realise that we only have until the scouts return to train your three Istari?" Aragorn asked the wizard after the lesson.

"Indeed."

"Which could be anytime from two days to two months! I can't have them trained up to even the Hobbits' standard by then – it would be physically impossible!

Gandalf ignored the looks they were being given by the passing elves. Yes, it was cold. Yes, he could probably think of more important things to do. But he was quite enjoying his smoke, thank you very much. "Indeed, you won't. I could hardly expect you to. But they have a more powerful weapon on them – this is merely a back-up plan. You should have time to train them on the way too – unless we happen to be attacked just out of Rivendell…"

"Precisely, Gandalf! We already have four Hobbits to babysit – We don't exactly have the facility to deal with three moody, powerful teenagers!"

"They shall manage – besides, you are basing many of your assumptions of their capabilities on the basis that they have magic similar to mine; they don't. Theirs is far more offensive, practical, and useful. The magical world cannot survive without it. It is the first thing they would use in their defence anyway."

* * *

It was mid-afternoon before hunger became apparent enough to cause Harry to wake up. Discomfort may also have had something to do with it – the clothes that they had been given, though comfortable earlier, became somewhat less so in slumber.

As soon as he moved, his muscles started protesting. Unable to prevent the winces of pain, he made his way slowly to the main room, where he hoped he could find some food. After all, if he was in this state, a House Quidditch player, and Tri-Wizard Champion, what state would his friends be in?

Thankfully, just inside the door, was a note from Dumbledore accompanying a basket full of food – bread, some meat, cheese, butter, some fruit, and a cake-like substance. Since he had nothing better to do, Harry divided the food into three portions, before sitting at the dinner table in the kitchen area, as they had come to call it. There was nothing to drink save water, but it didn't taste foul, at least.

Half way through his meal, he looked up to see Ron emerging from the boys' bedroom, looking at least as dead as Harry felt, if not more. He saw the food on the table and devoured it without hesitation. Harry remained at the table after he had finished, because to do anything else required more energy than he had to spare.

The boys sat talking for sometime as they waited for Hermione to appear, mainly discussing the cause for their discussion – Sword Lessons. When Hermione finally emerged from her room, she was in no state to join their discussion. At time like this, Harry was reminded how much he owed to his cousin's 'Harry Hunts'. Otherwise, he was under no allusions as to what his state would have been at the present moment in time.

It looked like Dudley had a use after all.

* * *

Dumbledore whistled as he walked through the halls of Rivendell. He was in a good mood – a rarity considering the war brewing on their doorstep, and the evil that had already bashed down the door and was residing behind it.

He didn't exactly know why he was in a good mood either – although watching his students attempt to learn the fine art of swordsmanship had been entirely too amusing. They would certainly be paying the price now…he had yet to break the news to them that they would be suffer similar trials and tribulations everyday. For the next two months.

They would probably not be happy to know that swordsmanship would not be the only thing they learnt in their time in Rivendell. Basic survival skills were also on the need-to-know requirements…

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the delay, I got the extended edition of LotR for Christmas and consequently distracted. I have, however, written significantly more over half term, which will appear as soon as I've bullied the beta team into editing.

Meanwhile, thanks for all the reviews, and please note that all reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Hint, hint.


	5. Do They Know It's Christmas?

**A CHANGE OF FORTUNE**

**AUTHORS: **The Inebriated Lion-Minion  
**CATEGORY: **Action/Adventure/Humour  
**WARNINGS: **HP/LotR crossover  
**RATING: **T  
**BETA: **A.C.Mathur, Tigerwulf

* * *

As the days rolled by unnoticed, Harry's daily routine was firmly established: Wake up, eat, wake Ron, eat, discover new ways to hurt people, sleep, eat, learn survival skills (with magic incorporated), feast, sleep. It was all very linear.

The only thing they learnt in the way of General Ignorance was that Gandalf/Dumbledore had no memory of the magic of the Magical World. He couldn't teach them new spells – they were relying solely on Hermione's knowledge, extensive in the way of helpful charms, but not so much in the way of defence. They _were_ coming in useful though – things like her magical purple fire would help avoid detection in the wild – from mortal enemies, at least.

Their finely tuned schedule was abruptly interrupted one morning when Dumbledore decided it was time for them to go shopping again – this time for their adventure gear. Blankets, roll-mats, cloaks, gloves, hats, boots, trousers, jumpers and rucksacks were all on the list. However, the real shock came when they were told they would be carrying all this. To Mordor. And back again.

"We've to carry all _that?_" Exclaimed Ron pitifully. Harry shared these sentiments.

"As well as some food, water, supplies, and some clothes to wear." Dumbledore supplied helpfully, laughing at the looks of horror on his students' faces. "It will feel a lot lighter when you're wearing most of it – and when you're using it at night…"

* * *

When Aragorn realised that his 'pupils' had no experience in carrying large amounts of weight, or any other elementary skill required on the Quest, he immediately decreed that Gandalf would take the trio on a three-day hike in Imladris – carrying everything they would be on the Quest itself. It also didn't help that it was Winter, and cold.

They had also been banned from taking their wands, as this mission would be completely realistic, and in the wild they would be unable to use magic, according to Dumbledore. The explanation they had something to do with an evil lord, an evil wizard, and the fact that the Fellowship would be travelling in utter secrecy. The wands would need to be saved for emergencies.

The day before they were due to set out, Harry and Ron arranged all their equipment out on their beds, checking to make sure everything fitted and was usable. The clothes that the Elves had designed for them had been carefully crafted after consultation with Hermione – they had unanimously decided that they couldn't travel in the clothes the elves, and apparently the rest of the world, were wearing. Thankfully, the Elves were always open to new ideas, and were quite happy to make the trousers, shirts and jumpers that were more common to the wizards.

However, aside from the normal clothing they had, there was also a long heavy cloak that wasn't exactly waterproof, but lined with fur; a pair of thick gloves, made to be durable out of some sort of hide; a thick woolly hat and scarf; and a pair of boots that were made of a material similar to leather. There was also non-clothing gear that had to be carried – a thin roll-up mat, apparently for sleeping on, and a couple of blankets to accompany it; a large spacious rucksack, with a large amount of pockets; a water container, predominantly leather coated in something waterproof; something called 'flint'; a portion of the food they would be taking with them and his invisibility cloak.

The other two were all carrying similar things, although for some reason Hermione had contrived to bring a few of the books she had managed to horde during the past month, as well as various items the boys had not deemed necessary – wash kits, for instance.

* * *

"I can't _believe _that he's making us do this!" Harry complained to Ron and Hermione, as they started their trek. It was a cold, late November day, and the weather was not exactly appealing. It was a 'practice' expedition for those who were unfamiliar with the conditions they would be forced to endure in the Fellowship; which meant that Harry, Ron and Hermione were sharing this mission with the Hobbits, and accompanied by Aragorn and Gandalf. It did, however, have the added advantage of getting to know some of those they would be travelling with.

The Hobbits were especially amusing, and also less guarded now – a good thing, considering that they would be practically living with each other for the duration of this quest thing. The only one who didn't seem to feel like talking with them was Frodo, the one who was going to throw this evil thing into the mountain. But then again, he didn't really talk at all, so Harry assumed it wasn't a personal thing he had against them.

The two younger Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, were inclined to agree with the students' sentiments for the expedition…although they seemed more concerned over the lack of what they called 'second breakfast'. The expedition had left shortly after their first breakfast, and the sun had only just decided to rise in the sky, and to cap it all off, it was unlikely to get any warmer.

* * *

It was lunchtime before they were allowed to stop for any time longer than five minutes. The inexperienced travellers flopped to the ground, while Aragorn and Dumbledore remained at alert. The hobbits seemed to have done exceedingly well, at least compared to the wizards. Harry was not in a bad condition, thanks to years of Quidditch and slavery, but Ron and Hermione were really struggling to keep up. It wasn't surprising really.

Their lunch wasn't much – apparently Dumbledore wanted them to get used to 'soldier's rations' as they walked. As a result, there were complaints abound from the Hobbits and Ron. Harry was used to menial meals and Hermione had more sense than to complain, since they only had a limited supply of food – supplied by Dumbledore. They only had enough for them to eat 'soldier's rations'. Aragorn, however, fell down to the meal as if it were the finest of repasts. When asked about this, he merely shrugged, muttering about the standards of bed-and-breakfast in the wild.

* * *

Two and a half days later, a thoroughly wet group arrived back in Rivendell, to the great annoyance of the Elves, since they were the ones who would have to clean up the puddles of water now leading to the various rooms where the waterlogged members of the expedition were staying.

Back in their rooms, wands returned to them and drying charms performed, Harry fully embraced the advantages of being a wizard. He did wonder if they should go and find the Hobbits, offering them the same courtesy, but Hermione quickly dissuaded him from this course of action, pointing out that the Hobbits found magic a little unnatural – and were unlikely to take kindly to having a wand pointed at them, regardless of the wielder's intentions.

They had been informed, prior to entering Rivendell, that they would be required at the training grounds at noon, the same day they got back. When the Hobbits had complained about missing lunch, Aragorn had laughed, and said lunch would be provided. He had also told them it was time they began training together.

Fortunately, spending four weeks walking around the same place meant that Hermione at least could navigate her way around the Last Homely House with something resembling accuracy. They could at least find the training grounds they had been using in that time.

* * *

It was two weeks before the end of December before they heard any more new details about the Quest they had pledged themselves on. It was also the week before Christmas, Ron moaned pitifully, as the people in this slightly twisted world seemed to have no inclination of when Christmas was – or any idea as to _what_ it actually was.

Dumbledore brought them the news late in the evening, when they were just thinking of heading over to bed. He seemed thoughtful, and thoroughly distracted. Seeing as it had been some time since Dumbledore had visited them, the three students looked up as he entered.

"I have word of the Quest. It will leave on the eve of the seventh day." Dumbledore told them, lowering himself into a chair.

"Oh lovely," muttered Ron, to nobody in particular. "The perfect Christmas present. I don't suppose they'll give us Christmas dinner, will they?"

"Christmas?" Gandalf inquired "Oh, crackers, turkey, and chipolatas? No. Most of those festive items don't actually exist here."

"Bother."

* * *

**A/N**: A very short chapter, I know, but the next one will be longer. And have some action.

Thanks to those who read and reviewed, and please tell me what you thought of this.

The Inebriated Lion-Minion


	6. This is Your Quest

* * *

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the land, nothing was stirring, excepting Rivendell, where the entirety of its population made ready for one of the greatest events since the Last Alliance; the Leaving of the Fellowship/Nine Walkers/Saviours of Middle-earth. The rest of Middle-earth, however, had no idea about this.

According to Ron, they were all being sensible and sleeping Christmas Eve away, whilst the 'crazy elves' were directing this, that and the other about packing, food distribution, clothes, gear, ponies. And on top of that, apparently Lord Elrond was having a heated 'debate' over the members of the fellowship; or more specifically, Merry, Pippin, Harry, Ron and Hermione. He seemed to think it was a slight mistake to send a pile of people unversed in the act of warfare on possibly the most important mission in the history of Middle-earth. However, since this 'debate' had been occurring periodically over the last two months, no one was particularly worried.

Tonight would also bring their last hot meal in rather a long time, and they had been bidden to make the most of it. After eating, there would be time to sleep, as they would be leaving at dusk the next day. That would also be the last time they slept in a bed, as such things were not the easiest things to carry on a three-hundred mile expedition.

* * *

It was dark. The entire company – all twelve of them – was assembled outside the gates of Rivendell. A strong wind was blowing about the trees, taunting those outside with memories of warmth. The sky above was dark and overcast. It was as though very nature was feeling the depression of the Fellowship.

The three young wizards were dressed similarly, with comfortable, yet thick, cotton-style trousers; t-shirts; a thick jumper; fur-lined cloak; leather boots, hat, gloves and scarf. They were also armed with wands and the swords that they had been practicing with over the past two months.

The rest of the Fellowship was also armed, although less than might have been expected – for instance, only Gimli the Dwarf and Boromir of Gondor had any form of defence (chain mail and a shield respectively). Boromir also had a horn, apparently some ancient heirloom, and Gimli a large sharp axe. Legolas the Elf had a bow and quiver, and a long white knife; and Dumbledore was carrying a brown wooden staff, with a sword at his side. Aragorn and the Hobbits also had swords, thought the ones the Hobbits were carrying were of a slightly different size.

There was also a pony, Bill, who would be carting a large amount of their stuff around the countryside with them. Apparently there was an interesting story behind his presence – almost as interesting as the one that involved two cows, three pigs, two hens, eight chickens and a couple of cute, pregnant squirrels… Perhaps unsurprisingly, it also involved Merry and Pippin.

"This is my last word," Spoke Lord Elrond suddenly. Harry looked up, startled from his musings. The rest of the Fellowship assembled in front of Elrond and Gandalf, moving from where they had previously been standing (or sitting).

"The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring, nor deliver it to any servant of the enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save members of the Company and the Council, and only then in gravest need. The others go with him as free companions, to help him on his way. You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside onto other paths, as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy it will be to withdraw; yet no oath nor bond is laid on you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet on the road."

At this, a few of the assembled shifted slightly at the hint that they mightn't be strong enough, but Gimli alone voiced this, "Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens,"

"Maybe, but let him not vow to walk in the darkness, he who has not seen the nightfall." Replied Lord Elrond

"Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart,"

"Or break it. Look not too far ahead! But go now with good hearts! Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!" There was silence for a few moments, before Gandalf spoke up.

"The Fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer." Gandalf announced solemnly. Frodo walked past those assembled nervously, down the winding path to the wild outdoors, as the rest of the fellowship followed him. Coming to a confluence in the road just out of Rivendell, Frodo stopped short.

"Which way to Mordor, Gandalf," he asked the old wizard quietly. "left or right?"

"Left."

They continued in this manner until they were out of Rivendell, where a major reshuffling of the Company was in order; Gandalf lead the way, followed by the Fellowship's personal Ranger, Aragorn. Gimli went behind them, followed by the Hobbits – Frodo, Sam (with Bill), Merry and Pippin – and the three younger wizards. Boromir was behind Ron, and at the back was Legolas, guarding them from the back.

They walked far that first night, following the narrow trail from Rivendell to the western side of the Misty Mountains, before Gandalf finally deemed that they would be able to stop for the day. Though spies of evil eyes (or evil Eye, as the case may be) were rarely seen in this land, they were still to become nocturnal – travelling by night and sleeping, or at least attempting to, by day. This would be the first camp of many, and even though over half the fellowship was ready to drop, having walked from dusk until as near to dawn as they could risk, with one break around midnight, there were still much to organise.

"For these first couple of days, I believe it would be better if those more experienced among us took the watches," Gandalf told them, looking at Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli. "Arrange it among yourselves, but I will take a watch. I have need of thought."

"Would you take the first, then?" Aragorn asked him. At his nod of assent, the other four had an impromptu discussion, although from what Harry could gather, they were all willing to watch and none of them willing to back down. Meanwhile, Gandalf ordered the setting up of the camp in a slight depression in the barren landscape, giving some whimsical protection from the icy East wind. There was a small bolder nearby, which, with considerable effort from those not debating the watches, was rolled over until it could provide a place for the watcher to watch from.

It was hard to get to sleep that night, upon the cold, hard landscape they were traversing. Harry only had a thin blanket to lie on, and another to use as a cover. The wind was rushing over the barren land, leaving everything in its wake cold. It didn't help that Dumbledore had pulled out a pipe and was smoking something that stank, leaving slightly stale air over the campsite, and that Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli had only just come to a mutually satisfying agreement – not that anyone else knew what aforementioned agreement was, and asking might only spark off another argument. And it didn't help that it was daytime. But even with all these distractions, a night's hard walking had left him tired, and he managed to sleep eventually.

* * *

The next evening, Harry was rudely awoken by Aragorn, who'd had the last watch. It seemed that they would be leaving, after breakfast or dinner. To avoid confusion, most of the Fellowship was more than happy to refer to 'Food', as this would be their main meal for the time they were awake.

It seemed that Sam, an aspiring cook, would be doing most of the cooking for them on this trip. 'Cooking', however, was a loose term, since it was made clear right from the start that fires would be a rarity, and most meals would be cold. And dried. For instance, today, Harry had been presented with a plate containing a couple of slices of dried meat, (of what type no one knew, nor particularly cared, since their last meal had been over twenty-four hours ago.), a handful of assorted, dried fruit – possibly of the raisin/sultana/currant variety, with apple and apricots thrown in for good measure – and a few small things that didn't resemble anything that he could think of, but tasted nice nonetheless.

After eating quickly, it was time to depart as dusk fell and the stars came out, shining down upon their faces.

* * *

Once again, Harry began to feel something similar to monotony; every 'day' was the same. Wake just before dusk, eat something of Sam's creation (invariably dried and cold), walk for a few hours, break about midnight, get bashed with a sword for an hour by Aragorn and Boromir, walk until dawn, sleep. Repeat.

On the fourth day, however, an interruption was made to his finely tuned schedule – watches. Harry was given the second watch, in mid to late morning. Each watch would last about two hours, Aragorn had told them in what the Hobbits had fondly called 'watch training'. He had also told them that while they got use to the timings, he'd arrange it so the watches before and after them were experienced enough to time it themselves, and wake up the next watch and wake themselves for theirs. Apparently, this was quite easy to master.

But that had been eight hours ago now, and Harry was sitting alone on the 'Watch Seat'; the hobbits had suggested carrying the one from the first campsite, and were told in no uncertain terms that if they wanted it, they could carry it. The idea was swiftly abandoned after that, but the current landscape meant that something or other could usually be found.

Harry shivered, drawing his fur cloak around his body. It was cold; the icy east wind rustled through the barren landscape, leaving no sound behind it. Today, however, there was also a large selection of shrubbery that surrounded the camp on three sides. It would provide some protection from the wind; except that the wind was coming from the unprotected side in some strange twist of fate. But Harry was glad for the cold. He wouldn't have stayed awake otherwise.

He looked over the entire camp, from the Hobbits, sleeping in a tight circle; to the Men, Elf, Dwarf and Wizard who were asleep around the hobbits. Ron and Hermione were between the two. They weren't classified as 'experienced', but since they did have an effective way of fighting, and were not relying on a few half-learned movements, they were allowed to sleep further out of the camp. Besides, there was no room for them in the tight-packed pile of Hobbit.

This 'watch' thing, however, was not so bad; after the monotonous days wandering not quite aimlessly in the wilderness, it was a pleasant change to sit quietly among the peaceful atmosphere. Normally, the atmosphere was rather tense, what with Aragorn and Boromir, Legolas and Gimli, Frodo and the Ring; so this was a nice variation on the normality of the Quest.

Time passed slowly. A bird flew overhead. He was due to be relieved at some point by Boromir, but time had lost meaning. One of the Hobbits rolled over. A breath of wind rustled the shrubbery gently. Someone snored in camp. A twig snapped quietly in the distance. Something small scurried across the ground, silently disappearing into the undergrowth. A dark cloud passed over the weak Sun. A twig snapped. Then another, in quick succession, nearer than the first time. There was a sharp intake of breath. It took Harry a few seconds to realise the last one had been him.

He walked to Dumbledore silently, looking to his right, where the sound had come from – South, if he read the sun's direction correctly. Reaching him, Harry shook his headmaster's shoulder. It took a few seconds for the aged wizard to become coherent, and Harry tensed until his eyes flicked open.

"Gandalf? There's something out there, moving nearer…"

Harry's voice, quiet as it was, still managed to wake up half the camp. It didn't take long for those now awake to arm up and proceed to wake everyone else, who were soon sitting blearily in their blankets.

"Everyone get armed, it may be necessary to fight. And Harry? You are not to use your wands until it becomes a matter of life and death. Aragorn, Legolas, will you two find out what threatens us?" As everyone else moved to collect weapons, the Ranger and the Elf vanished into the undergrowth. While they waited for the return of their scouts, Gandalf organised the defence of the company: Frodo in the centre, surrounded by the younger hobbits, with Harry, Ron and Hermione stood in front of them. Gandalf, Gimli and Boromir faced the south, in the direction the sounds had originated from.

The silence that surrounded the camp was broken as Aragorn burst out of the bushes, followed by Legolas at a more sedate pace. "Dunlendings. In the service of Saruman, if the white hand on their armour is of any indication." Aragorn reported to Gandalf, as he joined the wizard in protecting everyone else. "No more than a dozen, but well armoured, and well angered too."

"I had rather hoped that we would be able to avoid detection for a while longer. Any chance that they could be taken out silently?" Asked Gandalf.

"Only a few before they turn on us, but they could just run. Unless you are willing to let your students help…?" Aragorn replied hesitantly. He knew why Gandalf didn't want them to be discovered, but they might not have much choice.

"No! Secrecy is of the paramount importance, and we cannot risk either Sauron or Saruman finding us ahead of time, and certainly not here in the wilderness."

"So we fight?" Asked Boromir, drawing his sword from his sheath. Everyone followed suit with their respective weapons, preparing for a small skirmish. They stood in tense silence, preferring not to give away their position before they were at risk. The whisperings of the Dunlendings soon reached their ears, carried on an almost silent wind.

"There's tracks 'ere. Someone's got outta that Elvish castle,"

"And not elves. They don't leave no tracks. But there's gonna be at least 'alf a dozen 'ere, likely more."

"Shut yer trap, we're gettin' near," There was silence, save the quiet crackling of branches underfoot. Harry looked past the rest of the Fellowship; he could see shadowy shapes of men moving against the barren backdrop, with the intent to surround. Before him, he could just hear the remnants of a whispered conversation between Aragorn and Gandalf.

"They are going to be vicious if they're starving. The Dunlendings have suffered much these past years. It is no surprise that they have decided to cast their lot with Saruman." Aragorn told Gandalf. His reply was cut off as the Dunlendings charged.

The fight was like nothing he had ever seen before; quick, brutal and fierce. Most of the fighting fell to Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir, but everyone was covered in blood by the end. They came from all sides, charging at them mercilessly. Harry ended up attempting to fight a particularly fierce Dunlending, who was twice as wide as him, and half again in height. Unfortunately for Harry, he also seemed rather natural with a sword. He tried frantically to parry the blows, but the man was too strong for him, and forced him too the ground. The man raised his two-handed sword to deliver a killing stroke, laughing uproariously at the young boy who was kneeling on the floor.

So busy was he laughing at Harry's predicament, he didn't see his own misfortune creep up behind him. A sharp stab in the back of his knee sent him sprawling to ground, where Merry and Pippin could finish him off, as Harry regained his feet. He nodded his thanks to the two young Hobbits, before pushing them back into the centre of the circle. Elsewhere, the scuffle was coming to an end, with twelve dead Dunlendings, and a thoroughly alive fellowship.

They were not all unharmed though. Somehow, Harry had managed to get cut down his arm, which was bleeding freely, and a few of the others had got bumps and scraps during the fight. The injured were duly dealt with, and the dead chucked into the undergrowth. After all the post-fight rituals were respected, Gandalf addressed the Company, shaken as they were. None of them had been expecting to meet anyone yet, and especially not this close to Rivendell.

"We must sleep for the rest of the day. We need to be able to travel far by night; noises might well have reached the wrong ears. Boromir? I believe you had the next watch? At the end of two hours, I will take the last watch, the younger ones will have need of rest." Gandalf then proceeded to glare at anyone who wasn't supposed to be on watch, until they moved towards sleeping.

Harry, however, was far too shaken to sleep instantaneously. It would happen on his first watch, the first attack of the Quest. Typical.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I know it's been ages, but I hope this at least makes up. A bit. What did you think of it, this being my first scene involving something resembling action? Anyway, please review!

Merry Christmas!  
The Inebriated-Lion Minion


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